As Easy As That
by JantoJones
Summary: Napoleon needs a new tie.


"Pull over," Napoleon instructed, pointing to where he wanted Illya to park.

The Russian brought the vehicle to a stop outside of a very exclusive Gentleman's Outfitters named 'Nightingales' and questioned his partner's purpose.

"I need a new necktie," Solo replied.

"Do you not own enough?"

"The one my Aunt Amy gave me last Christmas was damaged when I spilled red wine on it," Napoleon told him. "She got it from here and, as I don't want to upset her, I'm going to replace it."

Illya nodded in acknowledgement of fitting reason, but refused Napoleon's offer to go in with him.

"I shall wait here," he answered,flatly. "I have no wish to see the disgusting prices being charged in there."

Laughing at Illya's outrage, Napoleon headed into the store. He was immediately greeted by an immaculately dressed man who offered him a welcome, and a seat, before asking how he 'could be of assistance on this particularly fine morning'.

"I'm looking for a necktie," Napoleon answered.

"Is sir looking anything specific, or would he like to see a selection?"

"Something specific. I need to replace a gift."

The sales assistant gave Napoleon an oddly knowing look, as though a secret had just passed between them.

"Indeed. Could sir describe the necktie he requires?"

"Silk, in a muted orange, with brown flecks."

"If sir would wait, I believe I have what you require."

The assistant once again looked as though he was understanding something clandestine and hurried off to get the tie.

While he waited, Napoleon glanced around at the garments on display. Being a high-end establishment the displays were sparse; meant only to show what could be offered. It wasn't the sort of store which dealt in high volume, off-the-peg merchandise. A mere thirty seconds after walking away, the assistant returned. He had a small box, with the name of the store printed in gold lettering.

"Is this what sir was requiring," he asked, lifting the lid.

"Perfect!" Napoleon replied

With his newly acquired necktie, Napoleon rejoined Illya and they continued their journey to the office. They had a meeting with Mr Waverly and didn't want to be late. As it turned out, the Old Man himself was running late; having been called away to communications as a matter of urgency. While they waited in his office, Napoleon opened the box containing his new tie and showed it to Illya.

"It is very nice, Napoleon," said Illya, as he took hold of it. "How much did it cost?"

"You really wouldn't want to know."

Illya was about to hand it back when he felt something strange. Towards the narrower end of the tie it felt like there was a long, thin piece of plastic sewn inside. To Illya, it reminded him very much of a microfilm. He pointed it out to his partner.

"I think you're right," Napoleon replied after feeling it himself. "I'm going to have to tear into it, aren't I?"

Without waiting for an answer, he carefully broke some of the stitches on the expensive garment; every one of them feeling like a stab to the heart. Opening it up, he did indeed find a microfilm.

"I wonder what's on this."

Before either of them could postulate any further, Mr Waverly entered the room. Napoleon tried to show him the film but he was waved down. Waverly was clearly flustered, and had no interest in anything but the mission he was about to present to his agents.

"Gentlemen, we have very little time," he told them, handing them each a file. "We have learned that Thrush is to pass some exceptionally sensitive information to their local headquarters. It is believed to pertain to the attendants of an upcoming conference of the Hierarchy at its highest level. The means of information is via a microfilm which is to be handed over at a gentleman's outfitters called..."

"Nightingales," Napoleon and Illya chorused in unison.

"How the devil did you know that?!"

Napoleon related the events of the morning and held up the microfilm.

"Well, if that doesn't take the biscuit!" Waverly exclaimed. "Not only did you use the correct code-phrases, you also managed to request the specified necktie. I know the two of you have a well-deserved reputation for getting results but you, Mr Solo, have outdone yourself this time."

Napoleon and Illya both grinned, though the American's had more of a self-satisfied look to it.

"Does this mean I will be reimbursed the cost of the necktie?" he asked.

"Indeed, Mr Solo," Waverly confirmed. "And I imagine Del Floria will be able to repair the damage to that one. Well gentleman, it appears I do not have an assignment for you after all. I'm sure you have other things to catch up on, after you drop that film off at processing.

About an hour after Napoleon's visit to Nightingales, a man entered the store and stated that he was 'looking for a necktie' as he 'needed to replace a gift'. With a panicked edge to his voice, the assistant enquired what colour necktie the gentleman required. Upon being told it was orange, with brown flecks, the assistant was forced to sit down by legs which suddenly felt like jelly.

"I already handed it over," he told the Thrush courier.

"Who did you give it to?"

"I don't know," the assistant answered. "But I think I can guess."

"U.N.C.L.E. have somehow outmanoeuvred us again!" the courier snarled.


End file.
